


Bluebirds Fly

by SnowmanBiscuit



Category: Odin Sphere
Genre: Canon-Typical Romantic Theatrics, Established Relationship, F/M, Pet Names, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-13 02:57:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20167015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowmanBiscuit/pseuds/SnowmanBiscuit
Summary: Oswald notices a trend that a lot of people's husbands or fiancés have been cursed in some way. He's just the only one who hasn't been turned into some sort of animal.





	Bluebirds Fly

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere after every character's route but before Armageddon.

It was only when Gwendolyn sat down and really thought about things, she realized how exhausted she was.

Not just from rescuing her husband from Odette’s clutches, but the very long, involved talk that ensued not long afterwards. She knew she should rightly be angry but instead she was just resigned. Of course her father would lie to her. Even if she’d follow his whim to the letter, he just had to have some way of keeping her firmly under his thumb.

Poor, dear Oswald had been so skittish during that time. So afraid that if she learned the truth she’d leave him, but he had to give her the choice or else he’d be no better than either of their fathers. It had taken her several hours to digest this new information, but before sunset she had assured him that even if the cause was fabricated, her feelings were genuine.

Oh, he had hardly let go of her for the rest of that day.

Following was a whirlwind of activity. Having never really received affection, the both of them were unsure of how to be toward each other. Discovering boundaries, shy little touches and more apologies than would probably be necessary, testing this new tightrope that was their relationship.

As well, though she was technically a retired Valkyrie, and an exiled one to boot, she was also technically still royalty. Politics dogged after her regardless of her current status, or perhaps because of it. And while the other Valkyries never stopped looking down on her kind heart, the fact that she literally bested Death was nothing to sneeze at either. She was quite thankful that Oswald insisted on helping Myris and her with household duties, since between people coming to her for counsel and the constant onslaught of news about Ragnanival and its neighbours, she hardly had time to catch her breath.

Now that she had a moment, she was just too stunned to know what to do next.

“Perhaps the answer is to do nothing at all,” replied Myris when Gwendolyn took the matter to her. “You have been quite occupied as of late. Why not visit Meriene’s café for a change? The others in the Pooka Village have been asking after you.”

Gwendolyn sighed, smoothing out her skirts. “I think I might do that. Where is Oswald? I was thinking to ask if he might like to come.”

“I’m sure he’d love to. I’ll look for him for you, Lady Gwendolyn.”

****

“Prince Cornelius of Titania?” she echoed, surprised. And as a Pooka no less.

Velvet laughed. “Is he not full of surprises? I’m ever so glad he returned to speak with me.”

To say nothing else, Velvet was the one who was full of surprises. The moment Oswald and Gwendolyn entered the café, she caught sight of her half-sister across the room. Now they were sharing tea and stories together, warmed by the ambience of the stove. Though residual resentment still curdled in the pits of her stomach, Gwendolyn was glad for a moment to get to know Velvet a little better. Though she didn’t know the full story, she knew life had been hard for the both of them under Odin, even if Velvet had never lived serving him.

It had been a bit awkward explaining to Oswald, particularly since the Nebulapolitan gossip mill hadn’t quite yet moved to other topics. Oswald, however, had been nothing but gracious.

“Is he here now?” asked Oswald.

“No. He left to deal with goblins, again. I’m uncertain as to when he will return.”

“A pity. I would have liked to meet him,” Gwendolyn commented.

“There will be more chances to. He lives here in the Pooka Village, after all.” Velvet took a dainty sip from her teacup. She set it down onto the saucer with a clatter. “Still, what am I to do about that brother of mine? Vanishing like that, while injured as well, not to mention everything else…”

Oswald shot a look at Gwendolyn; she returned it, equally bemused.

“You have a brother?” he inquired, an eyebrow raised.

At the same time, Gwendolyn asked in restrained alarm, “_I _have a brother?”

Velvet grimaced. “That’s right, I never did tell you, did I? I suppose no one else did either. Yes, I have a brother. We were born at the same time. His name is Ingway.”

“Then, you have not seen Ingway for some time now, yes?” Oswald was tentative on Gwendolyn’s behalf, glancing at her as she took a long, slow drink of tea.

“Unfortunately. Would you have happened to see him? We look quite similar.”

“My apologies, I have not. My dear, are you all right?”

Gwendolyn shakily lowered her cup. “Y-yes, I am well. ‘Tis a bit shocking to know that my family was so… extensive. However, I have not seen Ingway either.”

Frowning, Velvet hummed thoughtfully.

“Does- does that mean I am also Valentinian royalty by merit as well?” Gwendolyn suddenly spoke aloud her thoughts. “Oh my, but that means the King would be… Are we both illegitimate then? Velvet?”

“What_ I_ think is that you could use some fresh air, dearie,” called Meriene on her way to the kitchen.

****

“Try not to think about it too much. The whole debacle is only fuss and misery.”

“You are correct, I believe.”

The wasteland that was once the country of Valentine didn’t offer much fresh air. Nonetheless, it could get rather stuffy underground in Pooka Village, particularly in areas of near-constant heat like the kitchens and café. The open winds were a welcome contrast, despite the swirling sands. The trio sat on a collapsed outcrop of masonry while Gwendolyn regained her composure.

“King Odin’s influence is far reaching, indeed,” Oswald mused sardonically.

“’Tis a wonder that Titania seemingly managed to escape his reach,” agreed Velvet.

“Has it, however?” Gwendolyn’s tone was weary. “For all that we know we could have another illegitimate sibling in the Titanian royal family, Velvet.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot discount the possibility.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the clouds. Distantly, Gwendolyn wondered at the irony of discussing the extensive consequences of her father’s actions in Velvet’s former homeland and the current sanctuary of the Cauldron. She even had Titrel, right here. It would only take a whim and…

Her shoulders sagged, as though the earlier burden of fatigue was once again weighing down on her. Instead of overthinking the matter, she leaned against Oswald, his presence grounding, a rock in a raging river. He shifted his arm so that she could settle more comfortably.

Velvet was holding her hand up to shade her eyes, squinting at the middle distance. Something that looked to be a bird hove closer, into further clarity. Eyes widening, she hastily gestured in silent warning. Oswald caught on quickly; though he retained his relaxed posture, Gwendolyn could feel him tense up.

She soon understood the cause as she caught sight of colours across the ground, the sun shining emerald and aquamarine through the veins of butterfly wings. Though everyone had noticed her approach, Mercedes appeared to be the last one to realize her position. With a gasp, she reeled back, slowing her forward momentum.

Her gaze was as piercing as her bow, which she levelled at the group coolly. Odin’s Witch, the Witch of Elrit and the former Shadow Knight all held up their hands in a show of peace.

Oswald spoke first. “Peace, Your Highness. We do not come bearing arms.”

“Hmph! You had better not be thinking of anything suspicious,” she said, lowering her bow nonetheless. “Don’t think for a moment that just because I’m here that Ringford is defenseless.”

Gwendolyn reassured, “We wouldn’t dream of it, Your Highness. After all, we would not like to trouble the Pookas unduly.”

Mercedes gave her a pointed look. Not-so-inconspicuously, she hid the ring by folding her other hand over it.

The Fairy Queen sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t want to trouble the Pookas either. They have never meant harm to anyone and they do have the most delicious pastries.”

“Oh, Lady Mercedes! I thought I heard you outside.”

Everyone looked back to see a Pooka approach, waving in greeting. Mercedes waved back, touching down on the ground.

“Hello! Are you well on this day?”

“Very well, thank you for asking. Oh my, is that a new scarf?”

Mercedes touched the scarf in question. “Why yes, it is! It was a gift.”

“It’s lovely. The colour matches your wings. Who gave it to you?”

“Someone very special,” she replied, turning the end of the scarf over to reveal an embroidered, curling “I”. On the other end, in the corner, was an embroidered frog. “One of my guards found it folded up on a windowsill. You’d think that if he had the time to drop this off, he could at least stay and visit,” she pouted.

“Indeed to goodness, Milady, surely he would. If you don’t mind me asking, why the frog? Don’t you dislike frogs?”

“Normally yes but this is a different case. You see, he was cursed into the form of a frog and needed a royal kiss to become normal again. Of course at first I was against it. But he helped me time and time again, saving my life. So I saved his and he became a handsome prince! I sewed the frog here myself to remember my precious froggy.”

While Mercedes and the Pooka bantered enthusiastically, Velvet stood back, thinking. That “I” seemed familiar…

She broke in between them. “Pardon me, Your Highness, apologies for interrupting but what happens to be the name of your suitor?”

Mercedes sighed wistfully, stars in her eyes. “His name is Ingway. I haven’t seen him since that day he saved me. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you? You look a lot like him; are you his sister?”

Clasping her hands in front of her face, Velvet took a deep breath. Oswald, who was sitting closest to her, instinctively shifted away. When her hands dropped away, her expression was nothing but sweet.

“Why yes, Your Highness, I do happen to be his kin. But you must excuse me now; I have _urgent _business to attend to.”

“Oh, all right. Let me know if you see him.”

“With pleasure, Your Highness.”

“Look at her go,” remarked the Pooka. “Whatever she needs to do must be really important. She’s running like the Halja were after her.”

Oswald shivered, rubbing gooseflesh from his arms. “Methinks that it would be the Halja running from her at this moment.”

****

“A silver for your thoughts, my love.”

Oswald looked over. “My apologies, Gwendolyn, I was lost in thought.”

She hid a giggle behind a hand. “I know. That is why I asked.”

He hummed idly, meditative. “Speaking to your sister Velvet and the Fairy Queen had me pondering something.”

“Oh?”

“Prince Cornelius was afflicted with the Pooka’s curse and is betrothed to Velvet. Queen Mercedes’ suitor was cursed into the form of a frog. As well, I, your husband, am – or rather, was – cursed as well.”

“Though not into another form,” she pointed out.

_Technically, being dead-but-not-quite could count as being cursed into another form, _Oswald thought and mentally pushed away. That really was not something to say to one’s dearest, most wonderful wife, especially when she had had to drag his unconscious body out of the Netherworld.

Instead he just nodded. “I am thinking that it is an unfortunate, recent inclination of providence to engage wives to accursed husbands.”

“Nonsense, Oswald. If anything, you are a blessing to me.”

Feeling the blood rush to his cheeks, he ducked his head, half-humbled, half-flustered. “If that is so, that is only because you have undone my curse and blessed me with your love.”

Gwendolyn’s face coloured the same way the rising sun painted the clouds pink. Myris mumbled something about laundry and hastily excused herself from the vicinity. Neither of them really noticed.

“W-well,” said Gwendolyn, pretending to be preoccupied with tucking her hair back, “if you were to be changed to another form, perhaps there is one in particular you would be inclined towards?”

“A bird,” he answered with next to no hesitation. She tilted her head questioningly. His blush darkened. “Ah, ‘tis… a rather silly thing.”

“Go on.”

“When I was raised in Ringford, I only knew of fairies. There were no humans such as I. Though the men only had flightless wings, when I was younger I was expecting… That is to say, I was severely disappointed when I was told I would not get wings of any sort.” He stuttered out the last sentence, a bit mortified by his admittance. He remembered the teasing and scolding that had resulted from his assumption; there were quite a few who never let him live it down.

Gwendolyn was visibly trying not to smile and he couldn’t decide whether that enamored expression directed at him was worse or better.

“Thus, I thought a bird would be appropriate. Your wings are unfamiliar to me but in such a way they are as beautiful and graceful as they are mysterious to me. Given the ability, I would always fly back to you.”

Her smile spread, unable to be contained. She knew this already: she had noticed the box that had found its way into Oswald’s belongings. She hadn’t gone near it out of respect for his privacy, but Myris had confided that it was where he kept her dropped feathers, as though they were jewels. Taking his hands, she pressed her forehead to his.

“And I to you, my love. My dearest bluebird.”

“Perhaps a corvid would be more suitable.”

“Then a jay? My dearest jay, most charming crow, adorable chough and sweetest dove-”

“Gwendolyn, the last one is not a corvid,” Oswald laughed, shyly hugging her closer to hide his face against his shoulder.

She held him tightly and continued relentlessly inventing pet names, not at all enjoying his red-faced squirming. Not at all.


End file.
